


To Love And Be Loved By Me

by thinkoutsidethebex



Category: Marvel, Marvel (Comics), Marvel 616, Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-22
Updated: 2021-02-22
Packaged: 2021-03-11 22:55:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,058
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29625270
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thinkoutsidethebex/pseuds/thinkoutsidethebex
Summary: The story of Eros and Psyche was quite literally the stuff of legends. When he lost her to the perils of mortality, Eros too lost himself. He wandered the world, lost and alone until fate gave them another chance. Will things be different this time around? Can Eros find a way to save his love before it’s too late?
Relationships: James "Bucky" Barnes/Reader
Comments: 2
Kudos: 15





	To Love And Be Loved By Me

**Author's Note:**

> Warnings for multiple mentions of death, blood, car accidents, and needles. This is the longest one shot I've ever written and I adore it.

Eros hated the rain.

Rain always spoiled everything. It led to canceled plans and ruined events and even though Demeter and Persephone danced with joy whenever it came, Eros always found himself grumbling. Now, watching as fat raindrops splattered across the stone marked with Psyche’s name, he couldn’t imagine ever hating it more.

He stood at the end of the grave, his hands shaking as he held the single red rose he’d picked up on the way. His mother stood beside him, her hand rested delicately on his shoulder to keep him balanced. A few other Olympians had come to pay their respects as well; his father, Ares, Zeus, Hera, Poseidon, Athena, and Hermes. Hades was markedly absent, along with Persephone, a fact that was not lost on Eros. But he only had time for one overwhelming emotion at a time, and right now his grief far outweighed his anger. 

Nobody said a word. Immortals were normally a chatty group but none of them seemed to know what to say. Eros assumed it was the first funeral most of them had ever been to.

_ Why did it have to be hers? _

He stepped forward, legs shaking as he did, and kneeled in front of her gravestone. His fingers brushed over her name as he set the rose on the ground beneath it. Never, in all his eons of existence, had Eros felt pain like this. He didn’t even think he could feel like this until now. As his eyes passed over the quote on the stone, a sob ripped through him.

_ If I know what love is, it is because of you. _

Eros had chiseled the words there himself, despite his mother and father telling him it wasn’t necessary. There needed to be more on the stone than just her name. People who came after them needed to know how important she was.

One by one, the Olympians who had come for her took their leave. None of them spoke as they left, leaving Eros to his sorrow. Eventually, only three of them remained; Zeus, Aphrodite, and Eros. As Eros wept, his mother stepped forward and crouched down beside him. She wrapped an arm around her son and held him close, kissing his temple softly. 

“I’m so sorry, my love,” she whispered gently. Eros took a shaky breath and turned to face her, his face soaked in tears and rain.

“She deserved more time,” he breathed, his voice cracking. “We deserved more time.”

“I know,” she said, taking his hand and squeezing. “But she was mortal, my dear. You knew from the beginning that you would have to say goodbye one day.”

“But not yet!” he snapped. “She was young. Even by mortal standards, she was too young to die. It’s not right.”

“You may not think so, but that’s how human life works.” He knew his mother was trying to help, but all she was doing was unknowingly pouring salt into a gaping wound.

“Hades is behind this,” he said firmly, his eyes turning back to Psyche’s tombstone. Aphrodite sighed gently and shook her head.

“Eros, you know that’s not true,” she replied. “All humans die, just as they’re born. That’s the way it is.”

“What I know is that Hades has always been jealous of us,” Eros growled. “Psyche and I had what she and Persephone never could, so she took her from me.”

“That’s enough,” Zeus thundered from behind them. “I understand you’re grieving but I won’t stand here and listen to you accuse my sister of things you know aren’t true Eros. I’m sorry about your wife. I really am. Psyche was an amazing woman, but it was her time.” The king replaced his glasses and ran a hand through his perfectly trimmed goatee as Eros struggled to keep himself calm. Aphrodite could sense his tension and stood, turning to face Zeus.

“We should return to Olympus,” she said, wiping her eyes gently. “There’s still much work to be done.”

“No.”

The two of them turned quickly to face Eros who hadn’t moved a muscle.

“What do you mean, no?” Zeus asked, barely containing his anger. The king did not tolerate being disrespected and Eros knew he was toeing a dangerous line, but he couldn’t find it in himself to care. 

“I’m not going back,” he said flatly. “Ever.”

“But…but Olympus is your home,” his mother protested. “Your work is there. Your family is there.”

“My family is buried in the earth right in front of me,” he countered, his voice shaking. “I won’t return to a home where she isn’t.”

“And what of your duties?” Zeus demanded. “You have a job to do, boy. You can’t turn you back on your responsibilities.”

“Watch me,” Eros spat. A rumble of thunder sounded in the distance as lightning flashed in Zeus’ eyes.

“Watch how you speak to me,” he growled, taking a step forward. Aphrodite, recognizing the king’s flaring temper, stepped between the two of them and rested her hand on Zeus’ shoulder.

“Your Majesty,” she said softly. “Forgive my son. His heart is too burdened by grief to understand the weight of his words. It might be best if we leave him.” Zeus glared at Eros for a moment before he nodded, holding out his hand for Aphrodite’s.

“I’ll be expecting you.”

Eros waited until he was sure they were gone before looking over his shoulder. He was alone now. He looked back at the stone and almost felt taunted by it. His tears came harder now, and he laid on the ground, hoping it might open up and swallow him whole.

“I’m sorry, Psyche,” he sobbed. “I’m so sorry. I wish I could have saved you. I should have tried harder.” His breath came in pants as he curled into himself, his words drowned by the weight of his heartbroken wailing. Wind cut him to the core, but he didn’t move. Nothing mattered now. She was all he’d had and now she was gone.

The sun had almost completely set by the time Eros opened his eyes. He was soaked to the bone and shivering violently, but he still didn’t want to leave. Leaving meant it was really over. She would really be gone. Slowly, he raised his head and looked up at her name. Each time he saw it was like a fresh knife right through his heart.

“I swear, my love,” he murmured. “I swear on your grave. For as long as I live, as long as my heart beats in my chest, no mortals shall know love. If I can’t have mine, they can’t have theirs.”

And so, the god of love renounced his duties. He ignored the calls of Olympus and the pull in his heartstrings whenever a love needed his help igniting. If he had the power to give up his immortality he would have, but that ability was reserved for Zeus alone, and the king of Olympus was nothing if not stubborn. The two of them seemed determined to wait each other out, hoping one of them would bend to the other’s will.

But neither did.

Eros wandered a bit, hopelessly depressed, but never let himself get too far from Psyche’s resting place. He wanted to be able to visit her as often as his aching heart would allow, which ended up being nearly every day. No matter the weather or the season, Eros found himself settling in front of her tombstone, sometimes not even realizing he’d left his home.

He always brought something for her. Some days he read to her. Others, he just talked about what he’d seen that day. Once, he sat down to find a lyre had been left leaning against her grave, but nobody was there to claim it. When he picked up the golden instrument, the clouds broke and sunlight poured down on him, eliciting the faintest of smiles.

“Thank you, Apollo,” he whispered. On that day, Eros sang.

Mortal time passed strangely. Eros had never really needed to keep track of it before but now that he was, it felt odd. Things that could be done in an instant on Olympus took weeks on Earth. It was all he could do not to use his powers to complete everyday tasks. Somehow, he managed to learn. By his count, it had been six months since Psyche’s funeral and he finally felt like he was getting a handle on human life. The sun was warm and the breeze was soft as he made his way to the graveyard at Kerameikos, a book of poetry tucked under his arm. The cemetery was vast, but he knew the path to her grave well. The stone had just come into view when Eros felt an itch on his left shoulder. He shrugged it off as best he could, but by the time he sat at the foot of her grave the itch had progressed to a burn. 

“What the?” he hissed, pulling up his sleeve to inspect his skin. Right in the center of his left shoulder, burned dark into his flesh, was a small, heart-shaped mark.

“That’s going to keep happening.”

Eros jumped up and spun around at the voice behind him, gasping softly when he saw Aphrodite standing there.

“Mother,” he breathed, dropping his book. “I…how…what are you doing here?”

“It’s good to see you too,” she smirked, stepping forward to pull him into a tight hug. Eros wrapped his arms around her and was surprised at the tears that prickled at the corners of his eyes.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered. “You took me by surprise is all. I missed you.”

“I missed you too, my darling boy,” she said, pulling back and looking him over. “Oh, my sweet. You look so tired.” A soft chuckle escaped his lips.

“You never change, do you Mother?” he asked. 

“If by that you mean I never stop worrying about my son then yes, you’re right,” she answered, taking his chin between her thumb and forefinger. They exchanged soft smiles for a moment before Eros remembered her words.

“What did you mean when you said this is going to keep happening?” Aphrodite’s smile faltered at his question and she dropped her hands. The air around them seemed to drop a few degrees, almost like it was trying to warn Eros of what was to come.

“The mark on your arm,” the goddess said, gesturing toward it. “It’s the first but it won’t be the last.”

“What does it mean?” Eros asked, looking down and brushing his fingertips over it. The burning had faded but the mark remained dark against his skin.

“It means a true love has been lost,” she said quietly. “Two soulmates who were meant to meet didn’t, and never will.” Eros scoffed and bent down to grab his book, pulling his sleeve back down to cover the mark.

“Aren’t soulmates your duty?” he asked coldly.

“I only entwine the souls,” she explained, the softness in her voice somehow managing to stoke the flames of Eros’ anger further. “Getting the lovers to meet is Cupid’s job.”

“Don’t call me that,” he snapped, glaring at her. “That’s not my job anymore.”

“It will always be your job, you’re just choosing not to do it,” she said. “You can’t change who you are. You are my son, Eros. The god of love.”

“What if I don’t want to be anymore?” he yelled, staring his mother down. “I buried my wife, Mother. I watched her die surrounded by gods who could have saved her but none of them lifted a finger! How am I supposed to set the entire mortal coil on their paths to love while mine rots in the dirt!” Tears were streaming down his face now and he didn’t care. All of the anger and sorrow he’d felt since Psyche died was seeping out of him, and once it started he couldn’t stop it.

“You know we would have saved her if we could have, Eros,” she answered. “The mortal world has rules that none of us can flout.”

“It’s not fair!” he screamed, his voice cracking on the last word. “Zeus spits in the face of every rule we have. Poseidon turned the world against Athena’s most loyal priestess and made her a monster but nothing can be done for Psyche?”

“It’s not up to us to determine what’s fair,” Aphrodite started, but Eros wouldn’t hear it. 

“We should be able to make it so. We’re gods!” His voice echoed through the cemetery and Eros fell to his knees, weighed down by his grief. Aphrodite slowly crept forward and placed a hand on his shoulder. He recoiled slightly but felt too exhausted to move any further. He wiped his cheeks with the back of his hand and looked up. The day looked every bit as beautiful as it had when he stepped out of his door, but somehow it felt as bleak as the day of Psyche’s funeral. His pain was overwhelming. Every day felt like he was breathing from underwater and walking with weights attached to his limbs. He just wanted her back.

“You have to let her go eventually,” Aphrodite said, breaking the silence between them. Eros’ breath caught in his chest as he slowly raised his eyes to meet hers. She was right. They both knew it, but Eros was still so angry and far too stubborn to admit it. He was about to start yelling at her again when a glint of sunlight on stone caught his eyes. Shame mingled with his mourning as he turned to face it. Psyche’s name, and the quote he’d so carefully worded, started back at him, steadfast in the marble as the day he had carved it. This was supposed to be a place of rest and here Eros was, screaming and causing a scene. He could barely contain the disgust he felt at the disrespect he’d shown his own wife. He stood abruptly, causing his mother to gasp and step back. Everything was too much. He had to get away.

“Don’t come looking for me again,” he said, not meeting her gaze. There was a sound of wings flapping and before Aphrodite could even call his name, Eros was gone. 

After that day, Eros did not return to Psyche’s grave. The guilt he felt over causing such a scene at the place she was meant to rest ate at him and drove him to run. He wandered the human world, broken, desperate, and alone. There was never a plan to where he went. Eros simply stumbled along wherever his feet and wings took him. He saw the hanging gardens of Babylon where they lay hidden away from the world. He helped lay stones at the Great Wall of China. He climbed to the top of the Eiffel tower the day it was completed. Eros saw the entire world. Then, he saw it again. Then, he saw it one more time. With each new wonder he laid his eyes on, he held Psyche in his heart. He imagined the way her face would light up at the inventions and innovations of mankind and how thrilled she would be to try everything. There were even times he could swear he felt her beside him. As he clung to pieces of the broken Titanic in the northern Atlantic or as he watched the bombs fall on helpless ships in Pearl Harbor, it felt like she was with him. He could never tell if he was imagining it or not, but he swore he heard her voice on the wind, guiding him to safety. 

While Eros walked the Earth, the marks on his arm continued to appear, just as his mother said they would. The first one had hurt the most but by the time his arm was covered from shoulder to fingertip, he barely noticed when they appeared. Some were darker than others, but all of them stood out sharply against his skin. Eros took to wearing long sleeves year-round to deter stares and awkward conversations. 

Perhaps the oddest thing about all the years he spent on Earth was how utterly alone Eros felt. Nobody, not his mother or father or even Zeus came looking for him. Finding him would have been no problem for them, he knew. Hermes was able to locate the gods anywhere at any time, and even though he’d told his mother not to come looking, part of him wished she would have. He’d lost his wife, he’d lost his faith, and apparently, he’d also lost his family. Eros, the god of love, was alone. 

_ Present Day: Brooklyn _

Eros descended the stairs of his building, tugging on his leather jacket before stepping outside. He took a deep breath and looked around, taking in the city before he started off down the street. Everyone was just starting to wake up, and soon the air would be filled with shouting voices, car horns, and the clanking of construction equipment. He didn’t mind the noise though. Something about the chaos and scrambling of it all reminded him of Olympus. It was the closest he’d felt to home throughout his self-imposed 800-year exile. It pained him a bit, thinking of all that had surely changed since he’d left, but not enough to make him go back. Even though he hadn’t been back to Psyche’s grave since his confrontation with his mother, the idea of leaving her on Earth to go back home was unbearable. The gods didn’t want him back there or they would have said so. He was where he belonged. 

“Hey, Buck!” one of his neighbors called, waving at him. He smiled and waved back as he crossed the street toward the coffee shop.

Bucky.

The alias he’d picked when he arrived in Brooklyn five years ago still felt foreign to him. Everyone here knew him by that name, but it usually took him a while to settle into them. He jogged across the street and followed the sidewalk to the hole-in-the-wall coffee shop that had become one of his favorite places. The sun was almost fully up now, and Bucky could tell it was going to be a beautiful day. It reminded him of the last time he’d been to see Psyche’s grave, all warm breezes and sunshine. The small smile that had tugged at his lips a moment ago fell away abruptly at the thought. Even after 800 years his heart still ached for his lost love. Sighing, he rounded the final corner. As he did, he felt the familiar itch starting at his left shoulder blade. It was stronger than any he’d felt in a long time, and Bucky rolled his shoulder in a vain attempt to placate it. Groaning softly, he pulled open the door to the coffee shop and plowed headfirst into a woman exiting. 

“Oh, shit!” he exclaimed as hot coffee spilled over both of them. “I’m so sorry. I wasn’t paying attention.”

“No, it’s ok. Neither was I. Are you ok?”

That voice. Bucky froze in his spot when he heard it. This time he wasn’t hearing it on the back of the wind of the creak of a lifeboat as it bobbed on the water. This was real. It was her. Slowly, Bucky looked up.

“P-Psyche?”

Your brow furrowed in confusion at the strange name he called you and Bucky felt like his heart might burst. Even after 800 years you still managed to take his breath away.

“Sorry?” you asked. He was still staring at you dumbfounded as you offered him your name. It wasn’t the same, but it was somehow so distinctly you.

“O-Oh, sorry,” he said, finally taking a breath. “You um…you look like someone I used to know.”

“Was she covered in coffee too?” you giggled, and it was all Bucky could do not to pass out. He had never been more confused in his entire existence. You were here, but you weren’t you. Clearly, you didn’t know him, but even eight centuries apart couldn’t erase you from his memory. Every line, every freckle, every minute detail of you had been etched into his memory like stone and they were staring back at him in you. In all his confusion he hadn't even noticed the itch on his shoulder blade had faded before it had a chance to burn. 

“I’m really sorry about that,” he stammered. “I’m normally not like this.”

“You mean this clumsy or this cute?” you asked, causing the blood to rush to his face. Cheeky. Just like he remembered. 

“I guess both?” he answered, rubbing the back of his neck nervously.

“Somehow I don’t believe that,” you said, fishing some napkins out of your bag and handing him one. “I’m sorry about the mess.” Bucky started dabbing at the stain on his shirt and shook his head.

“It’s my fault,” he replied. “I wasn’t looking.”

“Still, I feel terrible,” you countered. “Let me at least pay for your dry cleaning."

“That’s really not-“

“I insist,” you interrupted, taking out your phone and handing it to him. “Let me get your number and I can pay you back.” Dumbstruck, Bucky could only nod as he took it and programmed his number in. He had to force himself not to type Eros and checked it three times before locking it and handing it back to you.

“It’s really no trouble,” he tried again, his hands still shaking.

“Maybe not,” you replied, flashing him a smile that made his stomach do backflips. “But if I don’t do something this will weigh on my conscience and slowly force me into overwhelming madness.” It took him a moment to catch onto the joke, and he managed to force out a laugh that matched yours before it got too awkward. You laughed with him and it was the most beautiful sound he’d heard in the better part of a millennium. Everything was so overwhelming. Bucky needed to get somewhere quiet where he could think but he didn’t want to leave you. He was terrified that if he even blinked you’d vanish, like it had all been some cruel trick by the universe just to further fracture his already broken heart. But his mind was racing too quickly to make sense of anything with you standing right there. You had his phone number. He hung onto that with everything he had as he spoke again.

“I um…I gotta…I have…,” he stammered, trying to connect his brain to his tongue long enough to form a coherent sentence. Blissfully, you chuckled. 

“Yeah, me too,” you said. “Gotta change before work.” Bucky cringed as he looked over the large, brown stain on your white shirt. 

“Sorry again,” he said, but you waved him off. 

“Really, it’s ok,” you said. “Just hang onto your dry-cleaning receipt. And maybe after you can get me a replacement cup of coffee?”

“O-Ok,” he said, already stumbling over his feet as he turned to go. He was almost back to the corner when you called out.

“Wait! I didn’t get your name!” When he looked back he could see you scrolling through your phone, searching for the name that hadn’t been there moments ago. For some reason, you not knowing his name hit him like a slap in the face and it took him a solid fifteen seconds to reply.

“I’m Bucky."

By the time Bucky came to his senses he had to stop completely and figure out where he was because he didn’t recognize anything. How long had he been walking? Everything since he’d turned the corner and taken his eyes off your face was a blur.

“What the actual fuck?” he mumbled to himself, leaning against the nearest building and sinking to the ground. Several people stared at him as they passed but he didn’t care. Millions of questions buzzed through his mind, like wasps disturbed from a nest. What was happening? How were you alive? Why didn’t you know him? Nothing made any sense at all and the longer he sat and thought, the more questions he came up with. Slowly, he pulled himself to his feet and dug his phone out of his pocket. First things first, he had to figure out where he was. He unlocked the screen only to immediately be greeted with a text from a number he didn’t know. Bucky’s heart pounded against his ribs as he opened it to find a picture of you staring back at him.

_ Now you have mine too! I hope that stain comes out. Let me know once you get it cleaned and we can meet up. _

Bucky’s fingers trembled as he tapped on the photo to enlarge it. You were beaming at the camera, the coffee stain he’d left you with barely visible at the bottom of the frame. Sunlight danced off your skin and your smile stretched all the way up to your eyebrows giving Bucky a feeling of warmth in his heart that he didn’t think he was capable of feeling anymore. Along with the elation, he felt unbridled fear. You didn’t know him. Why didn’t you know him? Where The Fates toying with him? Was this some torment Zeus has concocted to try and get him to come home? A somber realization dawned over him, chilling Bucky to the bone. Only one god had this kind of power, and only one god reveled in this kind of pain. Bucky looked back down at his phone, making sure to save your number and photo before opening the map app to find the closest Greek church.

Had Bucky not been in such a hyper-focused state, he might have been able to appreciate how beautiful the church was. The cathedral ceilings towered above him and the massive stained glass windows threw rainbows at his feet as he walked. He nodded once at the priest as he passed, opting to forego small talk while he scanned the busts along the back wall. Stone eyes bored into his, sending shivers down his spine until he found the altar he needed. This was the closest he’d been to his kin since renouncing his duty, and he could feel the presence of all of them as he made his way forward.

The bust looked nothing like her, mostly because someone long ago had decided she was a man, but Bucky knew her symbols. He kneeled before the stone, checking over his shoulder for onlookers before drawing a small blade from his waistband. Wincing, he drew the cold steel across his palm and let a few droplets of blood fall onto the stone. 

“I know you can hear me,” he hissed under his breath. “Get your ass down here. You and I have unfinished business.” As he replaced the knife and watched the wound on his hand close, someone sat down beside him.

“The blood is a bit dramatic, but I appreciate the commitment,” she said with a smirk.

“Cut the shit, Hades,” he snapped, glaring at her out of the corner of his eye.

“For the mortal’s sake let’s stick with Natasha,” she replied. “What have they been calling you?”

“Bucky,” he grumbled, finally turning to look at her. “Are the pleasantries really necessary?” She chuckled softly and tossed her red curls over her shoulder, leaning back to rest her elbows on the altar.

“Always a man of action,” she teased, looking out over the cathedral. “What do you think these mortals would do if they knew two of the gods they worship were standing right in front of them?” Bucky, having listened to as much of Natasha’s vanity as he could stomach, rose from his knees and turned to leave. She followed close behind, her high heels clacking on the stone floor. Neither of them spoke until they exited the building. Bucky stomped ahead, seething as he walked away from the church. As soon as the crowd around them had thinned enough for them not to be overheard he rounded on Natasha, and she was surprised to see that he was crying. When he spoke, his voice wasn’t coated with the loathing she expected, but rather low and shaking. If she didn’t know better, she would have called it fear.

“Why are you doing this to me?” he asked quietly. “Haven’t I suffered enough? Do you get off on my pain or something? I’ve never done anything to you Natasha, so why? Why are you tormenting me?” The goddess stared blankly at him, cocking her head in confusion. This wasn’t the headstrong god she’d come to know so many years ago. He was barely even a god anymore. She looked him up and down, taking note of the host of scars that covered his balled-up left fist, and found herself hardly recognizing him. Natasha drew in a deep breath and chose her next words carefully.

“Have you been gone from us so long that you’ve forgotten our ways, Eros?” Bucky flinched at the use of his true name and averted his gaze. The last person to call him that had been his mother, and coupled with the shock of seeing his lost love, it was too much.

“Answer me,” he demanded, his eyes still on the ground.

“Not here,” she responded, grabbing his right arm gently. He opened his mouth to argue but their air was already moving around them. When it settled, it took him a moment to realize where Natasha had brought him. The cemetery was far bigger than the last time he’d been here, but the mountains and the river remained the same. Even with all the change, he knew where he was. Horror-struck, he turned slowly and faced Natasha. 

“I don’t want to be here,” he whispered. 

“You need to see,” was her simple answer.

Bucky stood, rooted to the spot as he weighed his options. He could run, but it was pointless. Natasha was far stronger than him and if she wanted him here, she’d keep him here. He took a shuddering breath and turned his head, biting back a sob when he did.

“Psyche…”

The stone had worn down over the centuries, but it didn’t matter. Bucky would have recognized it even if it had been cracked in half. He fell to his knees at the foot of her grave and stared blankly ahead. Her name was barely visible anymore, chipped away by time and weather and overgrown by moss and ivy. His eyes watered as he took it all in.

“I should have come back,” he mumbled, speaking more to the stone than Natasha. Wind wrapped around him as hot tears poured down his cheeks. Natasha stepped up beside him and placed a hand on his shoulder. 

“You had your reasons,” she said softly. Bucky scoffed and shook her hand off, glaring up at her.

“Why did you bring me here?” he asked, wiping his face angrily. “Why do you hate me so much? What did I ever do to you?”

“Nothing,” Natasha replied flatly, causing Bucky to falter. “Contrary to popular belief, I don’t enjoy people’s pain.”

“Bullshit,” Bucky snapped, climbing to his feet.   
  


“It’s the truth,” she continued, watching him carefully. “I don’t like watching people in pain, but I see my share of it. What I do is a part of life. That’s it.”

“Until someone has what you want,” Bucky challenged. “Until you decide to end life before its time.”

“I don’t kill people, Bucky,” Natasha said, her voice softer than before. “I have nothing to do with that. The Fates are in charge of the threads of life. My job is just to usher souls on their way. I hated seeing Psyche come through my gates. But it really was just her time.”

“You were always jealous,” he countered, shaking his head. “You wanted what Psyche and I had for you and Persephone.”

“ _ Wanda  _ and I,” she said through gritted teeth. “Are just fine. Our arrangement isn’t the concern. Psyche was fated to die so her string was cut. I didn’t even know until she walked through my door.” Anger burned in him as he glared at the Queen of the Underworld. He wanted to scream or hit something. But he couldn’t. Not here. Not again.

“Why did you bring me here?” he asked again. “Why torture me? I haven’t been here since-“

“I know,” she interrupted. “We all know. You cut yourself off from everyone and everything. Olympus didn’t stop when you walked away, Bucky. Our ways are ancient and unwavering. Psyche’s soul completed its cycle in the Underworld, and it was time for her to be reincarnated. This isn’t some punishment or grand plan to torment you. This is just the way it is.”

“Even if that’s true,” he said, his voice wavering. “Why not? Why Brooklyn?”

“Take that up with Phanes,” Natasha replied. “He’s in charge of new births. Last I heard he was somewhere on Earth going by Steve. All this is his territory. I know you think I take some kind of joy in all this, but I don’t. My job is just to maintain the natural order. I don’t take pleasure in watching people grieve but I also don’t let their grief stop me from keeping the scales in balance. Everyone lives. Everyone dies. That’s the way it’s always been and the way it always will be. I’m sorry for what you had to endure but I can’t rewrite the laws of man. Not even for the people I care about.”

Bucky listened to her in silence as he stared at the tombstone. Some part of him knew she was right. Life was delicate and fragile, and its cycle kept the entire mortal realm in balance. He had spent so many lifetimes blaming Hades, assuming her jealousy had been what ripped Psyche from him, but now he could finally see the truth. She was just doing her job.

Her job.

His entire left arm tingled at the thought. Thousands of scars dotted his skin, a daunting reminder of the responsibility he’d neglected for so long. Soulmates spent their lives as lost and alone as he’d been, all because he was too busy wallowing in his own pain to help them find each other. Centuries of him being too self-absorbed to do his damn job. He thought that turning his back on love would somehow honor Psyche, but the harsh reality was that it tarnished her memory. All he’d managed to do was lose himself. Rather than honor her, he’d lost her too.

“I’m sorry, Hades,” he said softly, sniffling and wiping his eyes. She stood beside him and rubbed his arm gently. For the first time in all the eons he’d known her, she gave him a real, honest smile. He returned it and turned to go but she squeezed his arm to stop him.

“She’s still mortal, Bucky,” she reminded him. “Remember that. To love her again is to lose her again. Even I can’t change that.” His heart faltered at the thought and he bit his lip.

“Would you do it for Wanda?” She smiled again and let go of his arm.

“Over and over and over again,” she replied. Bucky returned it once more and turned on his heel, vanishing in the air among the flapping of wings. Natasha stared at the spot he’d been for a moment before she crouched down by the tombstone, brushing her fingers over the worn words.

“Take care of him. He’s going to need it.”

_ One Year Later _

Loud honking horns from the street below dragged Bucky from an unusually peaceful sleep. He yawned and rubbed his eyes, looking down in confusion at the strangely empty bed. When he went to sleep you had been curled up against his chest, but by the feel of the cold sheets, you’d been gone for some time.

“Angel?” he called gently, sitting up and tossing the covers back.

“I’m not in the kitchen!” you yelled from the kitchen. He chuckled softly and moved to get up, his face falling when he smelled something burning. Calling your name again, he jumped up and raced to the kitchen, skidding to a stop when he saw you. Splatters of batter clung to your cheeks, your nose, one of your eyebrows, and every surface in your shared kitchen. Bucky had to bite back laughter at the look of frustration on your face.

“Noooo,” you whined softly. “It was supposed to be a surprise.” The way your lip jutted out was enough to break his resolve and laughter bubbled to the surface. You pouted as he stepped forward and swiped some of the batter from your cheek with his thumbs.

“I think it still counts as a surprise, angel,” he smiled, licking the batter from his thumb. “Just a bit of a messy one.” Sighing, you rested your chin on his chest and wrapped your arms around his waist.

“Happy anniversary, baby,” you said with a soft smile.

“Happy anniversary, my love,” he replied, kissing the top of your head. “Let’s get this cleaned up and we can go out for a big breakfast.

The cleanup took a little longer than he’d planned but soon the kitchen was shiny and clean and the two of you made your way out to celebrate. Bucky took you for the breakfast he’d promised and then out for a walk through your favorite parts of the city. As you walked, Bucky held you close and smiled brightly. Smiles came so much easier to him now. For the first time in hundreds of years, he felt truly happy. Only he remembered everything from your lives before, but it didn’t matter. You were you and not Psyche, and even though you’d occasionally do something the same way as you would have eons ago, there was a clear distinction between who you were then and who you were now. Bucky found himself delighting in learning everything about you, and falling in love with you in entirely new ways.

With his love, came his work. He’d started up again a few months after your first official date where he’d finally replaced your spilled coffee, and he couldn’t believe he’d ever stopped. Whenever a pair needed help meeting, he was there to nudge them together. It felt good to be the god of love again, and even though he couldn’t tell you about it, he knew you’d be proud of him. Working again, being with you, all of it felt right. He felt lighter than he had in longer than he could remember and even though part of him knew there was an expiration date on everything the two of you had built, he refused to let himself wallow in that. He lived in the moment with you, and loved you with everything he had.

“Oooo, baby can we get ice cream?” you chirped beside him, pulling a chuckle from his lips.

“Sure, babydoll,” he replied, getting you a pair of matching cones from the cart you’d spotted. His arm found its home around your shoulders as you started through the park. You smiled as you ate, and Bucky couldn’t help but chuckle again. Up ahead, maybe twenty or so yards from you, he saw a man he knew was one of his. He adjusted his arm over you and scanned the crowd until he found the match he was searching for. Another man, on the other side of the park, sat on a bench reading. Bucky smiled to himself as he passed his original target. He brushed his fingers along the man’s shoulders, and at the same time pointed at his match. Pulling his thumb back like a trigger, he smirked as he watched both of their eyes flash pink.

“Bullseye,” he mumbled under his breath as the first man changed directions, set on a path that would lead him right in front of the bench.

“What, baby?” you asked, looking up at him.

“Nothing, angel,” he smiled, kissing the end of your nose. “Just people watching.” You stole a kiss from him and went back to eating as he looked up over the crowd again. His smile crashed to the ground when he spotted a familiar face in the crowd. Natasha stared back at him, clad all in black with her red hair standing out like pure fire. She didn’t move, she barely blinked, but she stared directly at him. When their eyes met, Bucky felt like pure ice was sliding down his spine. Why did he feel so afraid?

“Who’s that?”

Everything slowed down and Bucky felt the ice that had coated his spine spill into the pit of his stomach.

“Who’s who?” he asked, hoping he was wrong.

“The redhead giving you the death glare,” you replied, licking your ice cream nonchalantly. The blood drained from Bucky’s face as he squeezed you tighter to him, his eyes still on Natasha.

“You can see her?” he breathed, his voice wavering. From across the way, Natasha gave him an almost imperceptible nod.

“Of course, I can see her,” you answered. “She’s staring right at us. Is she a friend of yours? Or an ex?” Tears threatened at the edges of his eyes as you spoke, and he felt sick to his stomach. There was only one reason mortals could perceive Hades when she was on Earth. When their thread of life was pulled taught, just prior to being cut, they could see through the veil and Hades would appear to them. You kept eating your ice cream as you waited for his answer, completely oblivious to the panic that was building in him.

“No,” he said finally. “I don’t know her.”

Bucky rushed you home after that, giving a weak excuse of not feeling well. You followed him with a concerned expression, holding his left hand in both of yours. Once you made it home he rushed to your bedroom, leaving you slightly stunned and alone, staring at the door as it slammed shut.

In the bedroom, Bucky was falling apart. This couldn’t be happening again. It was too soon. You were younger now than you had been the last time you were taken from him, and he had only just gotten you back. It wasn’t fair. You deserved more time. He leaned against the wall and slowly slid down, covering his mouth to muffle the sobs spilling out. If he thought his heart had been broken before, he’d been an idiot. It felt like someone had stolen the heart from his chest, leaving only a gaping chasm behind, and made him watch as they crushed it beneath their heel. He was helpless and breaking all over again. 

“No,” he muttered, stumbling to his feet. He climbed frantically over the bed, tugging open his nightstand and sending the clock and lamp atop it tumbling to the ground. 

“Bucky?”

He heard your soft voice and knock from behind him but he didn’t answer, searching desperately for the items he needed. You opened the door and walked slowly inside as he pulled some thread, scissors, and drachma from the drawer. 

“Baby?” you called again, this time catching his attention. “Is everything ok? What are you doing?”

“Summoning The Fates,” he said bluntly, grabbing a tall white candle and book before marching past you into the living room.

“Summoning the…what?” you asked bewildered. He set the items on the coffee table as you trailed behind him, eyebrows stitched together. 

“The Fates,” he repeated, looking around for a lighter. “Three of them. Clotho, Lachesis, and Atropos, though last I heard it was Carol, Gamora, and Nebula. They control the threads of life. If I can get them here I can just…,” His sentence died as he ran his hands through his hair. What would he do if he got them here? It wasn’t like he could force their hands or even hurt them if he wanted to. Fate was drawn eons before he had even been conceived and nothing kept the sisters from doing their jobs. 

_ I have to try, _ he thought, sitting down on the couch.

“Bucky, baby,” you cooed, sitting beside him and taking his hands in yours. “You’re not making any sense.” Rain had started to fall as he looked over at you, his heart lurching a bit at the worry that clouded your eyes. There was another option. It was a long shot, but no longer than demanding The Fates turn over your thread. Bucky drew in a deep breath before he spoke.

“I haven’t been totally honest with you,” he started, squeezing your hands gently. “All this, it’s about my life from…before.”

“Baby, I’ve told you before we don’t have to talk about that if you don’t-“ He held up a hand to stop you and shook his head.

“No, I have to tell you,” he said, waiting for your nod before he continued. “It’s not just my life from before. It’s yours too. Ours together.”

“I don’t understand,” you said. “We didn’t have a life together until a year ago?” Bucky ran his hands over his face and steeled himself for what was to come. It was now or never.

“We did. You just don’t remember,” he said, picking up the book from the table as he spoke. “My real name…is Eros. I was born on Mount Olympus, the son of Aphrodite and Ares. For millennia, I’ve been worshipped as the god of love. Most people nowadays call me Cupid.”

“C-Cupid?” you replied, arching an eyebrow. “Really?” He winced slightly at the skepticism in your voice but nodded, flipping through the book to find the picture he wanted. 

“If it’s any consolation, I hate the nickname,” he replied. 

“What is this really?” you asked, crossing your arms in front of you. “I know you’re not Cupid, Bucky, Just tell me the truth.”

“I am telling you the truth,” he said gently. “You don’t have to believe it for it to be true. Plenty of people stopped believing in us after Mary gave birth but that doesn’t make us any less real.”

“Bucky, come on,” you groaned, rolling your eyes. “You’re talking about mythology here.”

“Mythology that was written about us,” he urged. “About me and…my wife.” Your face fell at his words and your arms dropped to your sides.

“You’re MARRIED?” you shouted, earning a shudder of fear from Bucky. “Is that who that redhead is? Is she your wife?”

“I was married,” he explained, showing you the page he’d found in the book. “A long time ago. To you.” Still fuming, you looked down at the page. The photo was of an etching at the temple of Aphrodite. It told the story of Eros and Psyche and their doomed love, and you pulled the book closer to you to inspect it. The faces of the gods looked too familiar to you. A winged man hanging out of the sky had his arms around a woman that stretched up to the heavens for him. His face was the same one that sat on the couch across from you. Her face was the one you saw in the mirror every morning. It was all too exact to be a coincidence, but it had to be. The other explanation was too ludicrous. 

“This…this is…,” you stammered, your eyes still glued to the page. It couldn’t be. You couldn’t be…

“It’s us,” Bucky finished for you, his tone gentle. “You don’t remember but it’s us.” Shaking your head, you slammed the book shut and tossed it on the table. 

“Look, James,” you said, making him flinch as you stood and grabbed your purse. “I don’t know what all this is about but I’m not gonna sit around and listen to it. There’s something you don’t want to tell me and that’s fine, but this is insane. I’m going to stay with a friend for a few days. Call me once you’ve figured all this out.” Your hand was on the door when Bucky vaulted over the back of the couch and grabbed it.

“I’m telling the truth!” he cried, pulling up his left sleeve to reveal the field of scars that covered it. “Haven’t you ever wondered about these? Why all the marks are the exact same shape? Each heart represents a true love that I abandoned.” You crossed your arms again and stepped back, your eyes flitting over the exposed limb. Bucky rarely uncovered his arm in the light. He wrapped it around you during countless nights when you were too spent to bother with clothes, but he would always dress quickly in the morning. 

“I thought you were the god of love,” you challenged, your tone almost mocking. “Why would you abandon that much true love?”

“Because I lost you!” he yelled, making you jump. “I first met you over 800 years ago and I fell in love with you then just as I have now. Back then, you were Psyche and you were mortal, just like you are now. We had only been married a few years when…when your time came. I tried everything I could to save you but I couldn’t. Every mortal has a time and yours had come. After, I renounced Olympus and my job. I couldn’t watch others fall in love when I had lost mine. Then I met you again last year and I found out you’d completed your cycle in the Underworld and been reincarnated. I finally have you back, baby, and I’m not losing you again.” You listened quietly, chewing on your lip as he told his tale. After a minute that felt like a decade, you finally spoke.

“You really believe all this, don’t you?” you asked quietly. “Jesus, baby. This is insane.”

“No, it’s not!” he insisted. “That redhead we saw today? On Earth she goes by Natasha but back home, she’s Hades.”

“That five-foot-tall woman is the god of death?” you scoffed.

“Goddess of the dead,” he corrected, taking a step forward. “That’s not important. The only way for mortals to see her is if they’re close to her realm.”

“Close to her realm meaning dying?” you chuckled, tossing up your hands. “You know, for a chick on the brink of death, I feel stellar.”

“The Fates have your thread!” he urged, tears in his eyes. “Baby, I know how this sounds-“

“No, I don’t think you do,” you interrupted, your voice riddled with anger. “My boyfriend, the man I love and live with, sees some ex or something on our  _ anniversary  _ and gets so freaked out that he concocts this bullshit story about me being the reincarnated wife to a Greek god, all so, I’m guessing here, we can skip town until his ex moves on. Sound about right?” Your fists were balled and your chest was heaving, making Bucky take a step back. He’d never seen you this angry, in all your lifetimes. There had to be a way to make you remember. If you could remember your old life then maybe the two of you could figure something out together. Suddenly, he had an idea that he couldn’t believe took him so long to come up with.

“I can prove it,” he said quickly. Your head cocked to the side at his words, but your anger seemed to ebb just a bit.

“Oh, you can?” you asked sarcastically. “Sure, let’s see your proof. You got a bow and arrow tucked away here somewhere?” A soft smirk tugged at his lips as Bucky stepped forward and wrapped his arms around you. The sound of your protest was muffled by the sound of his wings flapping quickly, and in an instant, the two of you stood on the sidewalk outside of your building.

“Something like that,” he said softly, holding you close. Rain dotted your face as Bucky watched the color drain from it. Your eyes darted around and your breathing picked up as you struggled to make sense of what had just happened.

“Wh-…I…we…how?” you stammered, spinning slowly to look out into the street.

“Perk of the job,” he replied softly. “Do you believe me now?” Your breath was still coming in pants as he spoke and you grabbed his shirt tight. Bucky pulled you close, scared you might pass out in the street.

“This…this can’t…,” you mumbled. “I can’t….no.”

“Baby,” Bucky whispered, cupping your face gently and lifting your eyes to his. “Breathe. Everything is going to be ok, but we have to go. We’re gonna summon the sisters and make them give us your thread. Trust me.” Tears mixed with the rain on your face as you looked up at him, terror drawn over your brow. He leaned in to kiss your forehead gently, but you pulled back.

“St-Stay away from me,” you whispered, so quiet he almost didn’t hear you.

“A-Angel,” he said, his heart aching. He stepped forward but you backed away again, shaking your head. It was only then he understood the fear in your eyes. You weren’t afraid of The Fates or Hades or even death. You were afraid of him.

“I mean it,” you said a little louder, taking another step back. “Don’t come near me.” You stumbled slowly back toward the curb as Bucky followed, crying to match you.

“Baby, please,” he said with a sob. “Please just come back inside.”

“No!” you yelled, drawing the attention of several onlookers. “I’m not going anywhere with you!” Before he could plead any more, you turned and took off down the sidewalk. Bucky called your name and chased after you, ducking and weaving through the crowd. His eyes stayed on you as you tossed fearful glances over your shoulder, trying to lose him. He lost sight of you for a fraction of a second, regaining it just as you jumped off the curb to cross the street.

“Baby!” he screamed, racing toward you. He shoved people out of his way, desperate to make it to you before the car he knew you didn’t see.

The blaring of a car horn. The smell of burning tires on asphalt. A flash of red hair. A bloodcurdling scream. And then, all was quiet.

You felt warm. Warmer than you should be considering you were just standing in the rain. All the sounds of the city, including Bucky’s scream of your name, had faded into nothing more than a faint hum, trilling in your ears. Blinking open your eyes, you sat up slowly and tried to make sense of the strange place you’d found yourself in.

Everything around you was stark white; the floor, the walls, the ceiling. You couldn’t even be sure they were walls. They were all the exact same shade of white and blended together so seamlessly that it was hard to tell where one ended and another began.

“She’s awake.”

The voice from behind you was feather-light and perfectly matched the aura of the room. You turned in her direction and found a man and a woman smiling at you. They watched as you climbed to your feet and looked nervously around the room. There was nothing there except the three of you and one silver chalice on a pedestal between the two of them. Whatever it held glowed a soft golden color and even though you’d never felt more confused, somehow, you were calm.

“Where am I?” you asked, looking back at them. “Who are you?” The man smirked softly and removed his sunglasses, tucking them into the breast pocket of his sharp grey suit.

“For now, you can call me Tony,” he said, nodding toward his companion. “And this is Winnifred.”

“Welcome, my dear,” she said with a smile. “We’ve been waiting quite some time for you.”

“Y-You have?” you asked hesitantly.

“Yes, we have,” Tony replied. “You’ve been a prominent topic of discussion for, oh, about 800 years now.” Winnifred narrowed her eyes at him as you furrowed your brow.

“Don’t confuse the poor girl,” she chided. “She’s been through enough already.” Tony shook his head and picked up the chalice, taking a drink and keeping his eyes on you.

“I don’t understand what’s going on,” you said, your voice thickening with tears. “What is this place? Where’s Bucky?”

“Bucky,” Winnifred said with a smile. “I expect he’s waiting for you to return.

“Return from where?” you asked, tears starting to roll down your face.

“Limbo,” Tony said matter-of-factly. “Sort of a cosmic waiting room between realms.” You rubbed your temples with your fingers, desperate to make all of this make sense.

“Why am I here?” you asked again, struggling through your tears. “I need to get back to Bucky. Please.”

“You’re here because a decision has been made about you,” Winnifred answered. Tony handed the chalice to her and she took a drink, both of them keeping their eyes on you.

“What kind of decision?” you asked, wiping your eyes. Winnifred smiled softly at you and something about it made you feel so safe. Some of the tension waned as she stepped forward and brushed some hair back from your forehead.

“You know, there was once a time I was incredibly jealous of you,” she said gently. “My son was so taken by your beauty when you met. He told anyone that would listen that you were the most beautiful creature in existence, and I hated it. I raged and railed and told him to recant it, but he refused. His love for you ran so deep he defied even me. He made me realize my pride could cost me my son, and I couldn’t live with that. Your love was so strong, it changed the will of the gods.”

“But I’ve never even met your son,” you protested. “Or you. I don’t know anything about the gods.” Winnifred and Tony both smirked at your confusion as the former nodded softly. 

“Yes, you have, sweet girl,” she said simply. Tony smirked knowingly behind her as your eyes watered again.

“Will one of you please just give me a straight answer?” you begged.

“All will be revealed in time,” Winnifred said, offering you the chalice. “Drink.” You took it with shaking hands, looking inside. The liquid it held was almost like molten gold. It barely moved as you took the chalice but it continued to glow softly. Something about the stillness of the liquid unnerved you and you looked back up at the duo.

“Is it safe?” you asked quietly. Tony chuckled in response and folded his arms.

“You just watched both of us drink from it, didn’t you?” he asked, quirking an eyebrow. Winnifred glared at him again as you swirled the liquid gently. He had a point. Both of them had drunk from the same chalice moments before and they were fine. After a comforting nod from Winnifred, you raised it to your lips and drank.

The veil of confusion lifted so suddenly and completely that you were amazed you didn’t realize what was going on sooner. It was all so obvious. Bucky was Eros, and you were Psyche. And here you were in Limbo with-

“Zeus,” you whispered. “Aphrodite.” Both of them smiled at you and nodded. 

“Welcome back, Psyche,” Zeus said, pulling out his sunglasses. “Been a long time.”

“It’s good to see you again,” Aphrodite smiled, taking the chalice and setting it back down. Panic set in and your breathing picked up as you started to remember how you’d gotten here. You remembered the rain and the car, and the ghost of Bucky’s scream echoed in your head.

“N-No,” you mumbled. “I can’t be here. Not again. I can’t leave him again. Please, you have to send me back.” Aphrodite placed her hands on your shoulders and shushed you gently.

“Shh, my darling,” she said softly. “Everything is alright.”

“No, it’s isn’t,” you protested. “I can’t leave him alone again. You didn’t see him when I found him, Aphrodite. He was so broken. This will destroy him. Zeus, please. You can talk to The Fates. They can’t be this cruel.” Zeus sighed and grabbed the chalice again, stepping forward and holding it out.

“Take a look and tell me what you see,” he said, exasperation thick in his voice. You looked down, confused, and gasped at what you saw. How did you not recognize it before?

“Ambrosia,” you breathed, earning a smile from the gods.

“Nectar of the gods,” Zeus confirmed, taking another drink and handing it back to you. “Aphrodite, refresh my memory. What happens when a mortal shares ambrosia with one of the twelve Olympians?” She rolled her eyes slightly at his theatrics and sighed.

“They become an immortal,” Aphrodite replied, causing your eyes to widen.

“Immortal?” you asked. 

“Immortal,” Aphrodite confirmed. “The Twelve have had many conversations about you and my son since he abandoned Olympus. In the end, it was decided that robbing the god of love of his true love was unfair.” The chalice fell from your hands and clattered to the ground at her words. More tears formed in your eyes but this time for entirely different reasons. 

“We can stay together?” you asked, your voice shaking. “I don’t have to lose him again?”

“If that’s what you want,” Zeus drawled, checking his watch. “Are we ready? Pepper’s waiting.’

“Give her a minute,” Aphrodite said, taking your hands. “The choice is yours. You can go back to Eros, or come with us and we’ll take you to Elysium. Your soul has completed its cycle so if you choose to rest, you can. It’s your decision.” You squeezed her hands tight and shook your head quickly.

“I want to go back,” you said. “I want to be with Eros. Please.” Aphrodite smiled and nodded gently, kissing the top of your head.

“Take care of him,” she said quietly. “He’s going to need it.” You nodded softly and looked between them.

“Thank you,” you whispered. “Both of you.”   


“Yeah, yeah, lots of feelings,” Zeus said, stepping between you and Aphrodite. “See ya!” He tapped your forehead once, and everything went black.

A steady beeping roused you from your sleep and you opened your eyes slowly. At first, you thought you were still in limbo because everything was so white. Things shifted into focus and you realized you were in a hospital room. Bucky was asleep in a chair beside your bed, his huge frame overfilling the small seat.

You felt different. Not bad or in pain, but different. Colors seemed sharper, sounds hit your ears more clearly, and even the smell of antiseptic filled the room differently. You assumed these were side-effects of your newfound immortality as you sat up slowly. Bucky stirred a bit but stayed asleep and you couldn’t help the smile that spread across your face.

“Bucky,” you said quietly. His eyes opened slowly and it took a moment for him to register what he was seeing. After a second, his brain caught up and he jumped out of the chair, rushing toward you.

“Angel,” he breathed, cupping your face gently. “Take it easy.”

“I’m ok,” you said, resting your hands over his. He shook his head and kissed your forehead softly. 

“Baby, you’re hurt,” he said, his voice full of ache. “Let me go get your doctor.” You chuckled softly at how frantic he was, looking around for the call button.

“Eros,” you said, freezing him in his tracks. “I’m ok.” He looked over your face and trembled gently, tears dripping from his red-rimmed eyes.

“W-What did you just call me?” he asked, hoping with everything in him that he had heard you right. You smiled wider and leaned in to kiss him, squeezing his hands.

“I called you Eros,” you murmured against his lips. “I remember.” A broken sob left him as he wound his arms around you, holding you tight as he kissed you again. You hugged him back and squeezed your eyes shut, burying your face in his neck.

“I thought I was losing you again,” he whispered against your hair.

“You’re never losing me again, my love,” you answered, pulling back to look into his eyes. “I’m yours. Forever.” His face fell as he looked you over, shaking his head slowly. 

“But I will,” he whimpered. “I’m gonna lose you one day and I can’t stop it. I can’t keep you safe from The Fates. Psyche I…I don’t know if I can survive it again.” He was crying in earnest now and it was enough to break your heart. You pulled back from him and held out the arm with your IV. Bucky wiped his eyes and watched in confusion as you pulled the needle from your arm. He gasped as both of you watched the wound the needle had made heal before your eyes. His eyes flitted from your arm to your face as he worked out what was happening. 

“How?” he asked finally, his eyes wide.

“Zeus,” you answered, getting another smaller sob from him. “And Aphrodite. They took me to Limbo and Zeus offered me ambrosia.”

“But…if he gave you…that means…,” he stammered.

“It means I’m immortal,” you finished for him. “It means for the rest of forever, I’m never leaving you again.” That was Bucky’s breaking point. He jumped into the bed with you and hugged you tight to him, peppering your face with kisses. You giggled gently and held him close, returning the kisses where you could.

“I love you, Psyche,” he mumbled against your lips. “I love you so much and I swear I’m never letting you go.”

“I love you too, Eros,” you replied. “I’m never leaving you again.” He kissed you softly again and hugged you tight, only pulling back when you were both panting for air.

“Let’s go home,” he said, standing up and holding out his hand. You took it and stood beside him, looking down at your hospital gown. 

“We might be a little conspicuous walking around Brooklyn like this,” you commented. Bucky kissed you again and shook his head gently. 

“Who are you talking to, angel?” he asked, wrapping his arms around you. He pressed his lips to yours again as you held him close, the flap of his wings taking you home together at last. 


End file.
